


Stowaway

by Myrmidonee



Series: Lord of the Rings: Stowaway [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, F/M, Fellowship of the Ring, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Middle Earth, Modern Character in Middle Earth, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tenth Walker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrmidonee/pseuds/Myrmidonee
Summary: What if Melkor wasn’t the only Ainu to explore the void. Unlike their fallen brother, what if another Ainu found something Eru Ilúvatar wanted to keep secret?Lórien master of dreams is lured into the void determined to find the owner of strange, fantastical dreams unlike anything he has ever experienced. Yet, what he finds isn’t at all what he expected, and he can’t seem to get rid of it! Even his all-seeing, all knowing elder brother is stumped.Welcome to the peculiar adventures of girl who hitched a ride with a travelling god! (Not a Mary - Sue, I promise!)





	1. Prologue: The Stowaway

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I been playing around with this concept for a while and I FINALLY seem to have come up with something half decent!
> 
> We won't be seeing our favourite elves and dwarves until a few chapters in. Please bare with me! I have plans laid out involving all our favourite characters. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The sand was bone white and stretched for many leagues. Like a dove’s wing, the sky was a muted grey in colour. The water lapped softly at the sand. It was quiet, peaceful and utterly boring.

At least, that was _his _opinion. The only aspect that warranted any attention was a lofty structure sitting atop a cliff in the distance. The cliff overhung the sea. It was black and jarring against the whiteness of sands. Lórien tutted. This place certainly didn’t compare to _his _gardens. Then again, did anything ever compare to his gardens?

Unbidden, an image came to his mind.

“Oh, brother dearest! Pray tell me what you think of my new look?” Lórien said, flashing a smile. With a flourish, a cloak was withdrawn, revealing lithe figure of a young Ellon.

There was no answer. This was hardly surprising; his brother was somewhat over worked and would not answer mere trifles. Even still, Lórien could not just come out with it and state the real reason for his impromptu visit.

“I know you can hear me!” Lórien announced – seemingly to nobody at all. If he wanted to draw the attention of one of his other brothers or sisters, he would simply start to sing. They all hated that and cede any request he bade them. Mandos, however, was strangely immune to his little trick. There was only one thing to do.

“I suppose Manwe is a far better judge… of these sorts of things. I’ll ask him.”

_ Vanity... _ a sombre voice answered. _Vanity is a mortal vice. It is not becoming, Irmo._

_ “Lórien _ , please!” Lórien said; He told him every millennium not to call him by _that _name. It was too stuffy and ceremonial. “Can we stop the formalities, dearest brother? I have a question for you.”

_ You look common. _The voice added. Lórien was thoroughly offended.

“I certainly do not.” He was very particular about how he looked. Lórien wore a periwinkle cloak, crafted especially to match his eyes. His robe was as fine as spider silk, yet as warm as a fur coat. They were fine clothes indeed. However, you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Lórien had spent an entire age crafting his physique. He had the body of a young Ellon, Long-limbed and as supple as a sapling. His complexion was luminescent, his eyes were splendid and frankly his lips were sinful. If his job was to appear to the children of Eru Ilúvatar in dreams, he wanted to make an impression.

“I look radiant” Lórien retorted, shaking his head. At the gesture silvery locks tumbled down his back.

_ Many a pretty elf has passed through my halls. _His brother replied. Lórien bristled at the remark.

“You are trying to tease me, brother.” He said. In response, there was a sound that rumbled.

_ I do not indulge mere trifles. _ No_, _Lórien conceded. Mandos did not deal with mere trifles. He was the lord of passing, rebirth, death. His halls were where mortal men went after they had passed. Where the first born travelled before being reborn. It was terrible burden, even for a god.

_ Something is amiss. _ Mandos said._ You do not come here to ask banal questions. Something frightens you._

"Will you not join me?” Lórien replied. For a moment, he did not think his brother would cede his request. Fortunately, there was a shift in the air and his brother appeared.

"Why do you insist on this form? It is –" Mandos said, but Lórien cut him off.

"Delightful!” Lórien said. Relief colouring his tone. His brother’s form was stiff. He stood ill at ease.

“Rather restrictive” Mandos answered curtly. His face was nondescript, but his voice held the same level of authority. It was remarkable how well it suited him. “Fragile.” He added almost as a afterthought.

“Yes” he agreed. It was small, vulnerable. It was a strange feeling to walk on two limbs when he could materialise anywhere in an instant. It was even stranger that his stomach felt uneasy. Mortals were plagued by all sorts of ills. 

“Nevertheless, it holds a certain charm.” He said sincerely. He didn’t know why he enjoyed this form so much. However, the time had passed for conversation on frivolous things.

“Begin, brother. I cannot assist if you do not.” Mandos intoned.

“You will hate me…” Lórien hedged.

“I am a god, love and hate are the feelings of firstborn and mortals. I will offer counsel nothing more.” He gave Lórien a thin-lipped smile. Lórien steeled himself for the disgust he knew would follow his admission.

“I have been having peculiar dreams of late. I fear they have led me down a curious path.” Lórien blurted suddenly.

“I find this difficult to believe.” Mandos dismissed, he meandered towards the water stopping just shy of the shoreline. “You are the master of dreams - are you not?”

“I am serious, brother.” Lórien insisted. He felt a twinge of frustration; usually their roles were reversed.

“Are you?” Mandos said, giving him a peculiar look. “That is a worrying predicament.”

“I have been having peculiar dreams this past age. I dreamed of fantastical places so unlike the lands we know.” Lórien continued, refusing to meet his brother’s gaze, lest he lose his nerve.

“None of the Valar truly know how this world will unfold.” Mandos recited in a weary tone. “These dreams are glimpses into its future.” It was a question, but his brother did not ask it.

Lórien ran a hand through the silvery strands of his hair. He _had_ considered that these dreams were merely visions of the future, insights into the glorious plan laid out by their father. That couldn’t possibly be the case, not after what he had seen.

“No, it is another place – another realm, separate from this one.” He said with a certainty that gave Mandos pause.

“There is no other realm. If there were, I would know of it.” Mandos replied slowly.

“There is.” Lórien blustered, reaching out to his brother in earnest.

“I see- “

“_No_, you don’t see anything! I’ve found it!” His brother knew a lot of things, but he wasn’t their father. There were things hidden from even him. Lórien hadn’t meant to find it, but he had.

“These dreams showed me so many things, I grew curious… You must understand I didn’t know who those dreams belonged to, not at first!” He rambled, almost incoherently.

“Lórien- “

“There is another world – filled entirely by mortals. They are bereft of guidance!”

“ENOUGH!”

Lórien went very still; this hadn’t unfolded like he had planned. If only he hadn’t blurted it all out! Mandos’ jaw worked silently, and his face fixed in utter disbelief.

The air felt hot and sticky. Perhaps this form wasn’t as charming as he had thought, his stomach rolled as if he were amongst a storm. Lórien felt a sudden urge to flee, and yet he couldn’t have done something so very wrong. It was a discovery - new possibilities! The thought withered as he caught his brother’s expression.

“You have explored the void,” he said, his tone dangerously calm. Mandos’ face was glacial.

“And beyond… I did not mean too. I was bewitched.” Lórien said and winced. He felt wretched, but he had nowhere else to turn. He was certain the Valar – save his brother – would denounce him on the spot.

“The foulest of beings were plucked from the void – and look at the chaos they have wrought upon our charges!” Mandos was almost shouting, but the sorrow under his voice as he breathed “Lórien, what were you thinking?” That was what touched Lórien.

“They are not all so very foul brother...” Lórien added quietly.

“_Yes,_ they are! The foulest and most corrupt _beings_ have come from that wretched plain. They have done our fallen brother’s bidding and soiled the lands of our father.”

“Am I so very foul brother! I have been and come back from that wretched plain. Does this make me wicked!” Lórien implored._ Have I fallen? _The words never left his lips.

Mandos went to speak but stopped. He went unnaturally still; Lórien could feel his presence scouring the sands.

“We are not alone...” His brother said, his eyes boring into his brother’s.

Lórien sighed and beckoned the stranger. The air shifted and there was a new figure on the beach. A glassy eyed figure approached the pair. It walked as if in a dream. Mandos stared at it, with an expression of such astonishment it would have made Lórien laugh under different circumstances.

“I may have gotten myself a stowaway...” Lórien admitted meekly and contemplated burying his head in the sand. He braced himself against the inevitable wrath his brother would unleash.


	2. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandos is convinced the stowaway is a demon. Lorien is determined to prove she is not. Meanwhile, Dr. Melissa Shaw is suddenly confronted with a demon from her past, a mistake which could destroy her marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! 
> 
> This chapter is not for the faint hearted! This is the introduction to our questionable main character...she isn't exactly an angel and she might be a touch depressed...eek! 
> 
> Also some new characters and our favourite god brothers!
> 
> Hope you enjoy x

**Chapter 2: Demons**

“It is a demon” Mandos said finally.

"An entire_ age _ has passed, and _ that _ is your conclusion!” Lórien exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat. Mandos bristled, an _ entire _age hadn’t passed, that was simply an exaggeration. Furthermore, what response was he expecting? Mandos had been presented with such an incorrigible situation that he was hairsbreadth away from striking him with a lightning bolt, his godly image be damned. If it took an age to compose himself, so be it.

Mandos observed that his brother’s panic has subsided, and in its place, curiosity had reared its ugly head. Mandos was _ not _curious!

“It is a demon.” He said once again. As simplistic a description it was, there was no other to be given. He eyed the sightless empty creature standing to the side of his brother. Its soulless body had withered, which was to be expected. A soulless creature was not welcome in his realms, so it was rejected by him and all in his dominion. 

“Dearest brother, such wisdom you impart!” Lórien exclaimed, kicking at the sand. Such an obvious attempt to provoke his ire. Mandos would not yield to his brother’s blatant jibe. One of them had to act like a God. Time and time again Mandos had attempted to persuade his brother against this action or that… often, ending in a bitter argument. His brashness had inspired many a foolhardy expedition in the race of men, which caused his brother great regret. Mandos would rather not see his brother weep. Mandos was determined to seek a satisfactory conclusion and indulging his brother’s eccentricities was not productive to his own sanity nor this conundrum. “A demon – pah! I have been bewitched yes, but a demon? I cannot fully believe this is all that I have found– “

“A beguiler...” Mandos murmured deep in thought. His brother’s conviction troubled him greatly. He would have preferred the wailing and gnashing of teeth his brother demonstrated only a short time ago. At least, his histrionics demonstrated that he knew this was a serious breach of their father's trust. As it currently stood, all the wisdom in the world could not have helped him decipher his brother's feelings. 

“Hardly, she is not pretty enough for that.” Lórien replied, and the sharpness of the remark brought Mandos out of his own dark thoughts. Despite himself, he glanced at the creature and reluctantly had to conclude it looked feminine. It was a pale imitation of a human female, with strange features and swarthy skin. The time spent in his realm was taking its toll on the demon, which was greying by the year. “Does she look sick?” Lórien added in a faintly disgusted tone. 

"You know the dreams and hopes of our charges, yet you cannot stomach their eventual decay." Mandos said coldly. Mandos was not afforded this luxury. 

"I thought you said she was a demon, brother dearest?" Lórien replied, with a honeyed smile. Mandos stiffened, and chose his next words carefully. What Mandos had said was correct, but it could easily be misconstrued. His comment was meant to reflect the foolish way in which his brother dealt with their father's mortal race, the second born. He certainly did not intend to imply this - thing, was anything other than a demon in need of removal. 

"The demise of any creature is messy. You cannot abide it." Mandos replied finally. To his credit, Lórien seemed thoughtful following this remark. 

"I suppose you are right, as always brother." Lórien said, but the tone sounded resigned. Before Mandos could think deeply on this point his brother asked a question that seemed fairly obvious. "Why does she look ill?"

“Its form will wither and cease to be soon enough." He said slowly. 

“You sound happy about that…” His brother said in a tone which bordered on an accusation. ‘_ Did he? Well, it is certainly a relief.’ _ Mandos took no pleasure in the demise of any _ living _ thing _ . _His brother’s almost accusation troubled him, why should his relief at this creature’s eventual demise warrant that remark? 

“Are you not?” Mandos responded in a tone the belied his concern. 

“What do you mean soon enough?” Lórien said suspiciously. Mandos wasn’t sure how his words could be misconstrued, nevertheless he explained as if he were talking to one of his charges, and not a fellow god.

“It has no Fëa, Lórien. Even you must know that a soulless hröa cannot exist in my realm. I cannot judge a meagre body when it exists without a God-given soul, it will simply cease to be.” he said, causing his brother to kick at the sand. 

“Yes, I know that!” Lórien said, his remarkable features contorting into a very ungodlike expression.

“Then I fail to see what you don’t understand” Mandos replied. He felt another surprise was coming and he readied himself.

“She _ has _a soul! Can’t you see it?” Lórien said in bewilderment. It took Mandos a moment to formulate a response. 

“Lórien, you are not as well versed in mortal and immortal souls as I. It clearly has no soul. If it possessed one, I would judge it as I do with all souls that pass through my halls.” He said, but he caught a glint of an idea in his brother’s eyes. Mandos could not determine what it was he said that triggered such a look but steeled himself against a torrent of nonsense his brother would inevitably unleash. 

“So, in the absence of a Fëa you judge this creature a demon.” Lórien said triumphantly.

“Yes…” Mandos replied, completely at a loss. The maniacal glint in his brother’s eyes sharpened.

“Well, I just have to fetch its soul then.” Lórien said, as if it wasn’t an absurd suggestion. _ His brother had gone mad! You cannot fetch souls! _ They weren’t something to be toyed with, they were given by their almighty father. Sparingly. Mandos looked at the pitiful imitation of female standing next to his brother, it was naked, grimy and withering away. ' _ To waste a soul on creature such as this… _'

"I must have left it behind. Admittedly, I didn't mean to catch this…" Lórien continued, gesturing to the sightless female. Mandos looked from his brother to the wretched demon in disbelief. 

"She has a soul brother. I will prove it to you.” Lórien said in earnest. He was waving his hands almost wildly. 

“Lórien- “

“Then you will _ judge _this creature. It will not be a demon!” Lórien declared loudly. His brother’s new body was trembling with fear, triumph, Mandos didn’t know. Mandos could not deny his brother’s request. He was bound to judge a soul if it entered his realm, and his brother knew this.

“Very well.” Mandos said, in a tone far weaker than any he had used thus far. “Bring me her soul, if it exists. If not, this- girl shall die. I will not hold your secret forever and you will be judged.”

In one fluid motion Lórien enveloped himself his lavender cloak, his physical form shifted and became smaller. In a flurry of movement a grey dove shot into the sky and disappeared from view, leaving the glass eyed girl alone on the beach with Mandos. 

“Come – “he said to the girl, “my wife will tend to you.” Mandos reluctantly took a hold of a small, shrunken hand and walked towards a dark structure atop the cliffs, defeated.

* * *

_ Had she walked out? _As soon as the question popped into her head, she felt sick. She pressed her lips together tightly and swallowed the bile creeping up her throat. Melissa honestly couldn’t remember finishing the surgery. She hoped desperately she hadn’t just… walked out.

Melissa hadn’t recognised – that man, not at first. Mr. Jamieson was simply the patient from room 6. She wasn’t even supposed to have been in theatre today. Dr. Kennelly was his surgeon. If he hadn’t been ill, she wouldn’t have had to stand in.

It was at that moment the door swung open. Dr. Nichols strode into the toilet. Melissa did a double take; this was the ladies’ toilet. It was the only ladies’ toilets on this floor. She’d wanted to be alone, just for a second. Could she not have a moment’s peace!

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She said stiffly, taken aback as the hospital’s infamous womaniser strutted through the door.

“Hello, Dr. Shaw.” The male doctor said cheerily. Melissa ground her teeth. She wasn’t in the mood for his sunny smile and an avalanche lame chat up lines. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” Melissa retorted, growing increasingly more irate. 

“My ears are working just fine.” he smirked. 

“_ Nichols!” _ At her outburst, the doctor’s smile faltered somewhat. He let out an exaggerated sigh and nodded at the door. 

“Male toilets are out of order. You can take this up with the Dean, but in the meantime, I’m going to take a slash.” He said, and waved at her as he slipped into a stall. Melissa hadn’t stopped to check the notice on the door. As if he’d caught her train of thought he added, “haven’t we had this conversation already?” Melissa was thankful he couldn’t see her face. They _ had _had this conversation before, two days ago in fact. She should have just left the toilet at this point, to save herself from further embarrassment but her feet seemed stuck to the floor. She turned on the tap quickly and scrubbed her hands.

“I presumed they would be fixed.” She mumbled, and to her dismay Nichols heard her.

“Nope!” he said. The cheerful tone irked her already frazzled nerves. She wasn’t asking everyone to be as miserable as she was. But, could she not wallow in her own misery for just a moment. Her stiff upper lip, occasionally wobbled. Today, happened to be a day where she just wanted to bawl her eyes out. 

He exited the stall and pulled his zipper shut. Had she not been facing the mirror she wouldn’t have caught his eyes roaming over her backside. Melissa resisted the urge to self consciously pull her shirt down and wheeled around to face him. 

“God! You are worse than a dog with two dicks! Really - my ass?” She said in exasperation. Nichols looked startled, and meekly approached the sink. ‘_ So, help me, if he doesn’t wash his hands,’ _ she thought angrily. Fortunately, Dr. Nichols went through the motions of washing his hands and drying them without any sleazy behaviour. For a moment she looked at her own hands. Her dark skin was scrubbed almost raw. She still felt sickly, almost dirty.

“I take it the surgery didn’t go well?” he added offhandedly. His cheeks were still pink from embarrassment. 

“He died on the table.” Melissa said, a little too quickly. Nichols looked up and frowned.

“Sugar Tits from room 6?” he asked. “I thought he was relatively stable?” 

“You’d think.” She muttered. The bastard had gone and died on the operating table, which would have irritated her under normal circumstances. However, the patient from room 6 wasn’t a normal patient.

“What the hell happened?”

“He had multiple sores and peripheral neuropathy…. yadda yadda. His leg was completely fucked so it had to go. Chronic mismanagement of his diabetes, it was his own fault.” Melissa was aware that she sounded callous, but nothing she said was untrue. It was one of the worst ways to go out and completely avoidable with proper management. 

“So...complications?” Nichols asked eliciting a snort from Melissa. 

“A pulmonary embolism. He was dead in minutes.” Melissa said. 

“Shit.” Nichols said. He swept a hand through his hair and sighed. “You know there was nothing you could do, right?”

“I know.” She said. Deep down she knew she had probably failed Mr. Jamieson. She hadn’t been able to bring him back in theatre. He’d certainly made it harder for her to do so. However, it was something she’d learned to live with in other patients she’d lost. In this particular occasion it wasn’t guilt that plagued her. Dr Nichols looked at her skeptically, but didn’t press her any further. Fleetingly, Melissa wondered if he simply didn’t care enough to ask anything further questions. It suited her just fine, regardless. He was a doctor too and he’d lost patients throughout his career, is was universal to all doctors, surgeons, nurses, anyone who worked in medicine in any capacity. You supposedly got used to it… 

“The guy from room six-" 

“Is dead, can we move on?” Melissa snapped, more harshly than she intended.

“OK, now I know something’s up.” Dr Nichols’ said, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. It was the first time she’d seen him without that cocksure grin. Melissa blinked, and stared up at him warily. “Look, you always bite my head off. I get it, I’m an ass-hole. But I’ve never managed to rattle you. What’s up?”

“I’ve lost a patient…. That’s enough to fuck a person up.” Melissa didn’t like where this conversation was going. There was a certain stubbornness in his blue eyes which said she'd have a fight on her hands.

“Eh, you’ve lost patients before." Nichols' replied dismissively. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. ‘_ Fine, you really want to know!' _

“I fucked him.” She said. Melissa felt a twinge of satisfaction when Nichols’ mouth fell open in surprise. 

“Christ! Ew, I mean – “He spluttered. His face was filled with horror. “You fucked _ him. _ Who were the guys you turned down? _ ” _

“What no!” Melissa groaned in frustration. “We didn’t – not recently. It was years ago.” Nichols eyed her in disbelief.

“Even still, you could do way better than Captain Sweatpants! Yuk!" 

“He wasn’t like that before. I have standards!” She said, her face turning beet red. 

“Was it serious...?” Nichols hedged, looking as if he simultaneously wanted and didn't want to know. Melissa blinked in surprise. She’d been caught up in a memory of a sweaty nightclub, wandering hands, and rumpled sheets. It hadn’t been serious at all.

“God no! We hooked up at a nightclub. I didn’t recognise him until half way through surgery. He’d let himself go….” Melissa trailed off. _ 'This is the worst conversation I've ever had.' _

“I’ll say…” Nichols looked at a loss for words. “Shit, that is rough! He’d changed _ that _ much?" 

“Yeah… " she responded glumly. _ 'It was like he’d given up on living _.’ It wasn’t the shock of seeing him, she saw shocking things every day. It was seeing him in such a neglected state, compared to… . He was never going to measure up to the likes of Brad Pitt. However, he’d been boyish and cheeky. He’d had the sweetest smile and a set of lovely green eyes. His smile was so sweet it would rot your teeth. It had only been four or five years since they - 

Don’t tell anyone.” Nichols said. Melissa caught his eyes in the mirror. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone. He just so happened to stumble across her in a moment of weakness. “How old was he again, thirty three?" 

“Thirty-four… ” Melissa said uncomfortably. The patient had a few years on her. She was almost thirty. 

“It was only the once right?” he said, with some degree of urgency. The constant questions were starting to bug her. Melissa nodded, they had only – hooked up the once, and gone their separate ways in the morning. 

“Keep it to yourself. If the Dean has any reason to think you fucked up in theatre an inquiry will be launched." Nichols said, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t do anything wrong." She retorted hotly. 

“It won’t stop an inquiry. Trust me, been there got the bloody t-shirt.” Nichol’s added with a sigh. For a second, an older jaded doctor stood beside her and Melissa felt as if it were her first day out of med school. She supposed in the grand scheme of things she hadn’t been qualified for a very long time. If she’d known who Mr. Jamieson was to begin with, she would have refused to assist with the surgery. Alas… she didn’t think the Dean would care. 

“Thanks, I guess…” She mumbled. It was good advice, but it didn’t sit well with her. She’d give it some thought when her head wasn’t so frazzled. She didn't like lying… even by omission. 

“Well, I’m off.” Nichols said eyeing the door. There were a few seconds of silence where nobody moved, and then like a switch the grin was back on his face. “Get some sleep, kid. You look like shit!” Melissa snorted; ‘_ of course, she looked like shit.’ _. As Nichols strode through the door, she resolved to get a goodnight’s sleep. She was a doctor; she knew sleep deprivation did funny things to your head. It would do her good. On that thought, she decided to put that man from room six out of her mind. 

_ ‘Did she really look like shit?’ _ There was a mirror above the sink as she tentatively investigated it. Honestly, Nichols wasn’t wrong. She looked grim. Melissa had been in a rush that morning, so she hadn’t gone to a lot of effort to make herself presentable. Even so, she looked worse that she had anticipated. Her braid was pulled tightly across her scalp, so tightly in fact it looked painful. If she thought about it, she could feel a few bobby pins sticking into her scalp, made even worse by a tighter than necessary braid. Despite this a few dark curls had managed to escape, which irritated her - her hair was completely unmanageable on the best of days. She must have gone through hundreds of bobby pins in her lifetime. Her dark complexion looked blotchy and her eyes were red rimmed. Melissa’s full lips turned downward in her reflection. ‘ _ God’ _was she really thinking about how she looked at a time like this?

‘_ Why him?’ _ was all she could think. ‘ _ Why of all the fucking people in the world did it have to be him?’ _ That man – the patient from room 6, had been her lover. His name was Toby and she hadn’t even bothered to get his surname. For the life of her she couldn’t understand why it mattered how he ended up. She hadn’t been in love with him, or anything close to that. Yet, seeing his bloated lifeless body on the operating table had rattled her.

After a few minutes, she plucked up the courage to leave ladies’ bathroom determined to put the patient from room six out of her mind. 

...

Melissa kicked off her shoes and shut the front door. All the lights were off, which meant George probably wasn’t in. That was probably a good thing, she wasn’t in an especially communicative mood. She padded through the corridor into a small kitchen, which lead on to the rest of her apartment. The kitchen was cramped, and it was made worse by the industrial- sized coffee machine on the counter top. As gargantuan as the machine was, she’d powered through long days at the hospital chugging coffee by the bucket load. If she didn’t have coffee in the mornings, lord knows if she’d even get as far as the front door.

Melissa spread mayonnaise across a single slice of bread and took a bite. It wasn’t the nicest apartment, if was on the fifth floor which would have been fine if the lift that serviced the building was working. It was often broken, and when it was not, it made such horrendous noises that she didn’t dare step a foot into it. The flat itself was on the small side but they’d shifted some furniture around and made the best of it. There were several bookcases, a tired looking sofa and a coffee table with several empty mugs of coffee sitting on top. It wasn’t the place she’d dreamed of when she moved in with George, but it was what they could afford. She was still paying off fees from her time at medical school, and George was between jobs. It wasn’t ideal, but she was working to fix it. 

_ ‘We fucked on that couch.’ _ The thought came to her suddenly. She groaned. She couldn’t get the patient from room six out of her mind! It wasn’t even a good shag! ' _ Two shags actually – one on the sofa, and later on the bed.' _Melissa gabbed another slice of bread and stuffed it into her mouth.

“aw fuck….” She said around a mouthful of bread. George and her had been in a bit of a rough patch. She had felt lonely… George hadn’t looked at her like he used to. Exams and rotations at the hospital got in the way of spending some quality time together. She hadn’t felt desirable, in years. When a man - Toby tried his luck on a night out with the girls, she could have said no. 

_ ‘Has it changed all that much?’ _She still didn’t feel desirable, but she learned to live with that. She still didn’t see George very often, despite his redundancy.

It was as if she wasn’t entirely present. She wasn't comfortable in her own skin, it itched and nagged at her. It was as if part of her was somewhere else, a happier place. 

After devouring another slice of mayonnaise bread, she sent a quick text to George asking where he was, before collapsing into bed.

...

There was a loud buzz and the clatter of her phone on the bedside table. _ ‘That’s not my alarm?' _ Groggily she snatched her phone, noting the ungodly hour, and saw that she had several missed calls. She rang back immediately. George _ never _ called her. It was always texts – he hates phone calls. 

“Mel – fuck, I’ve been calling forever!” The voice at the end of the phone was unmistakably George.

“I was asleep George, it's-” she checks the phone “-4 in the morning!” Melissa said, but he didn’t stop to listen to her angry reply. He was talking so fast it sounded like a garbled jumble. It took her a moment to decipher what he was trying to say. “You hit someone with your car! Christ George!”_ ‘What was he doing driving this late at night!’ _

Melissa knew he’d met some friends that night, they were going to have a few beers and catch up. She had a sudden horrible thought that he’d been drinking behind the wheel.

“He just appeared out of nowhere! It was like- god, you wouldn’t believe it!” George sounded panicked, more panicked than she’d ever heard him. Melissa was already half out of bed and picking a handful of clothes off the floor.

“George - Listen! Ambulance?” Melissa asked. She knew it was a dumb question the moment she said it. However, George’s answer was nothing she expected.

“He’s fine! I mean – he’s not fine, he’s a fucking weirdo. But there’s not even a scratch on him.” George babbled.

“What?” Melissa stopped, with only one leg inside her jeans. ‘_ Is he off his rocker? _

"He went under the wheels - Mel! He went under all of the goddamn wheels! And yet, he's fine like some sort of demon!" 

Buttoning her jeans, she readjusted the phone against her ear. “You should call an ambulance. He could be in shock…. ’ She said sceptically._ ‘Shock, internal bleeding, concussion…’ _ Melissa made a mental list of any complications this apparently _ uninjured _ man could be experiencing. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe George, but he wasn’t the best judge of these sorts of things. He hadn’t trained as a doctor. It would certainly be miraculous if the guy was… not injured. 

At this point, she was fully dressed. She scrambled to find her keys, purse and jacket. Snatching up the first pair of boots she found then headed out the door.

“George – where are you? I’ll come and wait with you until the ambulance arrives.” George rattled off an address as she made her way through the building. Much like the lift, she groaned and stretched. Her sleep deprived brain functioned just enough to get out of the building and into the crisp night air without falling flat on her face. It was cold out and Melissa was thankful she grabbed a jacket. The sudden chill invigorated her somewhat, and kept her mind on task. As she got in the car and started the ignition, her thoughts were centred on what state she would find the poor sod in. George sounded horribly shaken, but that wasn’t her primary concern at this point. She wasn’t convinced at all that the man was uninjured. “George, I’m going to hang up. Call an ambulance, OK?” Her husband said that he would call an ambulance, but his tone sounded off. Melissa pursed her lips and hit the accelerator. 

After what seemed like an age, Melissa pulled into a narrow street to one side of a rundown industrial complex. It looked breathtakingly dodgy. The wire fences had gaping holes and the road was littered with potholes and rubbish. Briefly, she wondered what on Earth George was doing in a place like this. _ ‘Had she got the wrong address?’ _ The thought vanished having spotted two figures a little way off next to an utterly ruined car. On the face of it, both men looked fine? Both were standing upright and having what sounded like a heated argument. Her eyes flicked to the ruined bonnet of George’s car. ‘ _ That’s one hell of a collision! No wonder the guy is pissed'. _She called out to the pair of them, and trotted over quickly. 

“Mel – he’s off his face!” George said in a rush, grabbing her wrist. George looked – well, like George. He wore one of his signature roll neck jumpers with a pair of faded jeans. The only difference was that he looked sweatier and more anxious. His pale skin was shiny under the streetlight.

"Stowaway?" 

The other man he said something, but she was distracted. Melissa didn't notice the strange words nor the untraceable accent, her gaze was fixed on her husband. 

"Let. Go." she said through gritted teeth. The grip on her wrist didn't hurt, but it was wholly unnecessary. This man could be injured, there was no ambulance and she was a doctor. 

"Mel, let's just get in the car and leave, he's fine." George said, giving her wrist a tug. Melissa was too angry to notice the frightened glance he threw in the direction of the other man. 

"Are you mad? He's just be run over by _ you _ George! We can't leave." Melissa was appalled. She was no angel, but this shocking display of cowardice had her hackles rising. 

"No Melissa! He should be dead, I- I killed him!" George stuttered. "I had been drinking, I know it was stupid! And - the car, it was only a quick drive home-"

"Jesus George - get a grip!" Melissa yanked her wrist out of his grip. "Apologies sir, i'd like to check you over. I'm a doc- " 

The man who stood in front of her smiled triumphantly. A prickle ran down her spine, for no reason she could discern. The man was beautiful. 

"Hello little one." He said, soothingly. For a single moment there was nothing else in the world than the man who stood in front of her. _ Lavender - he smells of lavender and- _a sweet nameless scent. Part of her brain realised she shouldn't have taken a step towards him. Yet, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. He was so very beautiful and his eyes beckoned her. Her fingers itched to comb through his long silken tresses tumbling down his back. A pale strand was caught on his cheek and she really ought to brush it aside…

"Melissa - don't! He's a demon!" A voice she faintly recognised called out to her. His lips smiled at her as a lover would, and she forgot the voice in an instant. She reached out…

All her thoughts came to a shuddering halt. It was too late, her hand was clasped in the hand of a demon. 

"Let us hope _ you _ are not a demon, little one." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo...a lot has happened. What do you guys think? 
> 
> I know out main character is a bit of a sour grape but she does improve I promise you! 
> 
> Myrmidonee X


	3. Sedative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa is trapped seemingly inside her own head and strange voices plague her dreams. Upon waking, everything is not as she expects. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Dr. Nichols is confronted by a manic Mr. Shaw insisting that she has been kidnapped. Whatever to do??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an odd chapter to write. I wasn't sure of the tone. I was also torn between this version and another.... Oh well :p
> 
> Arda will make an appearance in this chapter hurrah! Props to anyone who can guess where our character ends up? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Melissa did not exist for a time, until she did. It was not what she expected. 

"Little one..." A honeyed voice whispered to her. It was both quiet and commanding, which struck her as strange, but she didn't dwell on it. For a while there was only sweet nothings inside her mind. She cooed and basked in the attention. The voice reverberated like a church bell, bouncing off the insides of her skull. It demanded almost all of her attention, so she listened - for a time. 

_‘Where_ _am I?' _ It was a sleepy question- half formed in her head.

"Hush hush, little one..." the voice replied, with the faintest trace of unease. Before she could think on it further there was lavender, a delicious warmth and more sweet mumbles. Melissa felt herself slipping into a heavy slumber. Irritatingly, the same small voice in the back of her mind prodded her dwindling consciousness. 

_'Where am I?'_ She asked again, despite herself.

She was perfectly content, yet this question bugged her. Clearly she was determined to be miserable. She couldn't just except any good thing. Then again, feeling _perfectly _content was absurd in and of itself... when was anyone perfectly content?

_'Demon-' _the word dragged its way out from the depths of her memory. Melissa didnt believe in demons, at least not as far as people were concerned, why on earth did that pop into her head?_  
_

It was less subtle this time, a sudden warmth enveloped her, and she could a taste a sweetness in the air, like a sherbet lemon. It was stifling, verging on oppressive. The tiny voice in the back of her mind wailed like a siren, and pressed her to ask the question again.

_'Where am I!' _The words were loud and unmistakable. Melissa's mind shifted into a state of sheer panic. This feeling of bliss, this state of utter euphoria was wrong. She hadn't earned it, it was fake! Manufactured and manipulative! _'Alcohol? Drugs? No, that's not it! No - demon?'_

There was shudder, a ripple of unease passed through all of her thoughts. Melissa realised it wasn't her who had shuddered. That voice - that man - that demon shivered as if she had done something terrifying. With great reluctance a memory was forced into her her rabid thoughts, until it was all she could see.

_It was wet and scratchy between her toes. There was the occasional lick of ice cold water on her feet. She ached, gods - how she ached. Her bones were brittle and veiled by peppery skin, and grime. The smell of salt, grime and lavender lingered in her nostrils.It was too bright and she saw with slightest eyes two figures standing on scalding white sands. There was an unfamiliar sky and the smell of death.  
_

Melissa did not exist for a time, until she did. It was not what she expected.

* * *

Dr. Nichols made a show of studying the patient chart, surreptitiously glancing at the nurse as she passed. In the moments where he wasn't patching up lumps and bumps and covered in blood, he spent looking at attractive women. On this occasion, the passing nurse was fairly pretty, but this observation was soiled by an annoying thought he couldn't seem to get rid off. 

_ ‘You are worse than a dog with two dicks…’_

He tucked the folder under his arm with a frown. That was a rather crass way of putting it. He preferred the term 'charmer'. He supposed he was… getting on a bit, and chasing anything in a skirt wasn't the best use of his time... Reluctantly, he stepped out from behind a curtain and caught the attention of the passing nurse. 

“Who’s next?” he said, failing to keep a mildly flirtatious smile off his features. The nurse, Linda, pursed her lips and checked the clipboard. He was slightly put out, when she barely acknowledged him, then again it was busy at the hospital this evening, especially his department, the emergency services. 

"Mr George Shaw, 35, suspected minor head injury resulting from..." She paused, flipping though the pages. "-a collision whilst driving home from a bar." Linda replied, pulling a faintly disgusted face. "Claimed to have had one pint before heading home."

"Only the one pint?" Nichols asked critically. _'I call bullshit.' _

"Just the one, apparently. He's in room six." The nurse said in a clipped tone and gestured towards the back of the room. 

"Thanks -" he said, and searched his memory for the woman's name. "Linda right?" He asked. Linda gave him a flat look before turning away and stalking off. _ 'Ah, I must have pissed her off at some point…' _

Dr. Nichols swiftly entered room six, spotting a rumpled man of middling years sitting on the cot. The man looked grey and anxious, but he didn't sway or appear unaware of his surroundings.

"Mr George Shaw?" Nichols said. The man looked up eagerly. 

"Is my wife here?" Mr Shaw said. He wore an expression that looked as if he both wanted and didn't want to know the answer to his question. 

"Your wife…?" Nichols scanned through the file at the foot of the bed. It only mentioned a single male, suffering from a mild head injury. "I can get one of the nurses to contact her for you. Is she put down as your next of kin?"

"Yes, yes she is." Mr Shaw said quickly. Dr. Nichols was getting a strange vibe from the man. He looked quilty but looking at the chart, his blood work came back within the legal limits. Admittedly, they hadn't tested for everything, but he didn't look like a man who was taking any hard stuff. Dr. Nichols put the chart down, and gently probe the man's skull. It caused the man to jump, but the man didn't seem to have any obvious injuries. 

"Can I take wife's name?" Dr. Nichols asked, noticing a slight puffiness around his eyes and minor swelling across the bridge of his nose. "Does it just here?" He pressed two fingers to the middle of the man's forehead firmly. 

"Ow - yes, behind the eyes." Mr. Shaw winced and prattled on hurriedly. "My wife is Melissa Shaw.. Well, you'll know her as- "

"-Dr Shaw!" Nichols interrupted, forgetting the man's injuries for a second. Shaw was fairly common surname, but the chances of there being another Dr. Melissa Shaw at the same hospital? Dr. Nichols looked at the man on the cot in confusion. Mr. Shaw looked about as manly as petticoat. Admittedly, that didn't mean they weren't married. _ But him? Surely not! _"She's currently not on shift at the moment," he said quickly, regaining his professionalism. "I think she went home a while ago". 

"Oh.. I see." Mr Shaw said utterly defeated. Dr. Nichols eyed Mr. Shaw dubiously. He looked as if she had just died, and it set Dr. Nichols on the edge. Dr. Nichols didn't know Melissa massively well, but she was a good egg underneath her grumpy exterior. She was young and took herself too seriously, but she might mellow as she became more established in her department. She also made him feel like a lecherous fool, so that was an achievement in and of itself considering his ego. 

"Sir, I'd like to check you over more throughly before I discharge you." Dr. Nichols said with a touch more authority. This seemed to jar Mr. Shaw out of his thoughts. 

"The police! I-I should call them!" Mr Shaw said with a note of panic. At once he was on his feet and attempting to leave the curtained off section. Dr. Nichols swiftly clocked his trajectory and shooed him back behind the curtain. 

"That can be arranged." Dr. Nichols said soothingly, as if he were talking to a stag on the verge of bolting. "In the meantime, let's check you over-" he searched for the man's name in his head "-George." 

"No! He took my wife!" George babbled "I didn't want to believe it - she's gone... " Dr. Nichols felt a prickle run down his spine. 

"Was she in the car with you?" Dr. Nichols asked slowly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. George looked at him if he'd grown two heads.

"No, she was driving the other car! She came to collect me. Her car is still there for christ sake!" George protested, looking at him as if he possessed only a single brain cell. Dr. Nichols was very confused. If she'd come to collect him, where was she?_'_ _Wait- he took my wife?'_

"Sir, you are confused. No persons matching your wifes description have been brought in." Dr. Nichols said firmly, convincingly._ 'Had she died_?' It was sounded like he meant Melissa had died in that traffic collsion. She'd been taken into the land of the dead! He didn't recall there being a record of another person being involved in the incident on file, and there were no other hospitals in the area. "You've hit your head, and you might be in shock." He continued, his professionalism was wearing thin and he regretted speaking so confidently a second before. Usually, the sharpness of his tone resulted in obedience in some of his more unruly patients. But, on this occasion his patient looked him squarely in the face and contradicted him.

"I didn't run over my wife and neither did anyone else!" George said accusingly. Fucking hell, My _ wife _ had been kidnapped! Why is that so hard to understand?" 

By who?" The Dr. said before he could stop himself, and completely forgetting this was a patient he was talking to. 

"The demon! Look - I know this sounds crazy. I hit somebody with my car, I panciked, called my wife to come and get me and then the same bloke kidnapped her... I couldn't believe it s- so I came here when the ambulance arrived. But it actually happened I swear!" George said in a rush, without the teeniest trace of humour. 

"Nurse!" Dr. Nichols bellowed. "Linda! Can I get a sedative in here!" 

* * *

**͔͙S̰͔̩ḫ̻̼̙͓̺͜e͇ ̭̭c̯̣̯̟̖ǫ͕̰̫̞̪u̵̙̱l̪͕̜d͉̫͔̯n̸'̝͙̟̠̮t̷͚̼̖͚ͅͅ ̝̬̳͖͕ͅͅth̥͚̝̣̮̖ͅi̞͕͚n̰͍̺̯̼̕k̺͓̣̼͓͍̖!̫͝ **Her eyes rolled…

She felt clammy. Her clothes were too tight - her fingers pulled them off. An errant thought stilled them._ 'H̺͇̪y̼̣̭̠͇̯͞p̥o̫t̺͎͚͎͟h̷͙͔e̵̤̜r̸m҉̣͍͉̰̪i҉̖a͉̞̥͎̼̤̣….' _

Her cracked lips mouthed the syllables._ ̗ͅ'͉̹̬͇̰C̷̼ọ̢̭̼̘̳l̪̝̥ͅͅd̞̹̰̭̙.̳͍̲̬̟ ̼̮̦͎͉͔U͉p̷̦̻̱ ̴̗-̳̙͍ ̳Ḻ̫͎̼̞̲i̪̱͙̯̭s̹̗̹s̺̟͘a͇̹̗.̦ ͈̲̲̠̻̟̬G͕e̫̜̻̜̹̝t̵̗.̖̟̠̝ ̶̻U̦̣̜̝͕ͅp̢͓̩͈ͅͅ.̱̺̝͔̳̘' _It hurt. Her limbs refused to cooperate. Eventually she staggered to her feet and stomped on the ground. 

Prickling ran through her toes and up her legs. Useless hands clumsily drummed a rhythm on her chest, until sharp needles revived her stiff fingers. She shivered, and for a moment she felt worse, the pain was more intense. However, in that instant her thoughts became clearer. She sucked in a lungful of cold air and shocked her system, setting of a series of hacking coughs. 

_ 'Cold!' _ She thought, the sudden silence inside her head made her thoughts feel frighteningly loud. It was the first undistorted thought she had had since… she couldn't remember. _ 'What…what happened?' _

Melissa thought hard, the lack of noise and growing clarity in her thoughts spurred her on. Fragments of memories flitted through her mind, like a bird taking flight. Unbidden the image of a ruined car, a feeble and blinding light came to her mind. However, it wasn't the only thing she'd seen, imagined? Bone white sand, raised voices and tunnels of black stone at the water's edge. Somebody, taking her hand and leading her away from a beach, a roadside? 

Melissa mewled and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Everything hurt, and she wanted to crawl into a ball. A nagging voice in the back of her head snarled at her to keep moving. 

The ground was soft underfoot so it was difficult to find a purchase. Nonetheless, she hoped numbly from foot to foot. Her sleep caked eyes, grew sharper with every minute she kept moving. The sight she found displeased her phenomenally. 

Melissa stared dumbly at the ground and sparse shrubbery, before looking at the rest of very unfamiliar surroundings. The sun was weak and poked through a few clouds casting light onto the bank of shallow river. In the distance, a series of mountains sheltered the marshland, otherwise there were no landmarks to speak of.

Melissa was no expert on the English countryside, in fact she tended to avoid it. Nonetheless, the hardy twig like grasses, reads, and the spongy moss littered rocks looked nothing like the countryside surrounding the large industrial city where she lived. Melissa lived and worked in ever- expanding city of Sheffield. Remnants of old red brick industry and sprawling agriculture alike, punctuated the misshapen skyline. It was rapidly becoming a modern city, students and high rises replacing blue collar and grimy steelworks. It was right on the doorstep of the peak district. Undulating heather topped hills and voluminous dams were half and hour from the edge of the city. By comparison, the flat greying grasslands and spongy marshes of this place made way into snow capped mountains, instead of tall steel buildings. 

_ 'Since when do you explore the peak district?' _ An irritatingly loud voice asked her. Melissa had to admit, the state she was in, she could hardly make out her arse from her elbow, so making sweeping conclusions about where she was was probably beyond her.

Putting that problem aside for the moment, she looked down at herself in dismay. She was half dressed, wearing only a grimy looking bra on her top half. She had a sudden horrid thought that made her toes curl. 

Her eyes flicked across the exposed skin of her belly. It was raw and frost nipped. However, the occasional bruise did not resemble the imprints of grabbing fingers or a closed fists. She ached, but there was no specific ache in her groin, her mouth or any other… orifice. Her disgust dulled to something approaching relief. She concluded that she hadn't been assaulted. Her legs had fared much better than her torso. She wore a pair of tattered jeans, and a set of blacks boots… Melissa didn't dare consider what her hair and face must look like. She could feel her braid had come loose in places, and her skin felt raw and chapped. 

_'Good God, stop being so vain! Maybe ring somebody?' _The thought made her jump_. _She patted herself down and to her dismay she didn't have it. She didn't have her wallet or keys either. Letting out a horrendous shriek, she threw herself on the bank in frustration. _'Grow the fuck up, will you!' _She chided herself, biting her lip to hold back another frustrated wail.

"Melissa, just walk, warm-up and then figure out what to fucking do! Ok?" She said to herself in a tone that broached no argument! Melissa followed her own advice and walked.. 

And walked...

Into a trap meant to catch something else entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo thoughts?
> 
> I'm sorry - I know it was mean to end of a teeny cliff hanger!
> 
> Love,  
Myrmidonee Xx


End file.
